A lone shadowy figure moved among the ruins. Once there had been life. Joyful voices filled the air in an indiscernable muddle. Light and life did dwell there. But now only shadows and memories flourished.

The rain had ceased about an hour ago leaving tendrills of whispy clouds obscuring the midnight moon that shown through the collapsed portion of wall and ceiling. The figure bent and touched the ground. The rain had turned the ash and soot into a black paste. He lifted his fingers to his nose and smelled them. Scent carries much information, much knowlege and much memory. But it seemed all memory was lost here. Time destroys even what no others can.

Their was eveidence of recent occupation in this place. But it meant nothing to the shadows true purpose. A burnt out shell of an edifice, as it was, still offered some shelter. Especially to the destitute or transient. The scuffed footprints and soaked coals in and around the yet sturdy hearth bore no realavence to his former companions.

A wander in that land and that time the figure himself was to use the hovel for shelter as well. Decades had passed since last he had seen the hall. Still, its every detail came to his mind with crystal clearity when recalled. Here in front of him stood the bar counter. To his left, on the north end of the common room, about fifteen paces away was where Klethine had once stood. To the south stood Hurodom. And Marilth flowed in the middle. In the rear Kakuum and Silar stood, impassable and forever secret.

The figure breathed a sigh of regret. It was not unknown to him; the condition of the Tavern of Penumbra. But still the sight was sad, if not familliar in its dreary really. To experience loss is to experience life. It is sometimes odd what the mind and the heart needs. He had traveled three hours past dust in order to reach this place. No warmth or welcome did he seek or would have even believed in the realm of possible. Whatever the reallity, he was unable to rest until he came to this place. Knowing he was so close propelled him despite the hour or his weariness.

What peace of mind he gained from this place he could not define. But there was a sence of completion. Like coming home again. Being here in this place made his memories as sharp and as real as they had ever been.

As he lay down and and embraced the rest as it came, rain dampened or otherwise, the memories enfolded his mind as completely has his blankets enfolded his sinewy body.